A Time For Comfort
by We'reTheOnesWhoWrite
Summary: A Time For Comfort is set during Season 8 All Out War . Michonne is unable to accompany Rick as they March out to bring the war at Negan and the Savior's front door. The warrior lovers are already missing each other having not been separated like this in a long time. Michonne thinks some comfort is needed before Rick leaves.
1. Chapter 1

We're The Ones Who Write would like to present their first collaborative prompt story! This prompt challenge is being deliciously handled by a talented, expressive bunch of writers selectively chosen for this story. We have Cranesinthesky kicking things off with Chapter one, followed by Fik Freak and Thematsaidwelcome. Chapter 2 will be up soon!

Please feel free to check out all of Cranesinthesky deeply emotional Richonne stories on her page.

Enjoy!

 **weretheoneswhowrite**

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Remedy

When the pain cuts you deep

When the night keeps you from sleeping

Just look and you will see that I will be your remedy. (Beautiful)

Rick sighed as he opened his eyes, surrendering to the fact that sleep was not going to happen tonight. Not with the war on his mind. Different scenarios of what could happen riddled through his mind along with the reason of why they were fighting in the first place. Images of his family flashed before him every time he closed his eyes- Carl, Judith, Maggie and the baby, Glenn, Abraham, Sasha.

He especially wanted to fight for the person sleeping next to him.

He turned his head towards her, taking in her sleeping form only a few inches away from him. She looked more peaceful now than she did when she first left the infirmary. She told him that the pain had subsided just a little, thanks to the ice packs and pain relievers Tara was able to scrounge up for her. However, he could tell that the pain was not only external, but internal as well.

Their community was going to war in just a few short hours, fighting just like they been doing since the beginning. But this was different type of war. Instead of fighting the dead, they were fighting the living, all for the same reason- to get the chance to live.

She wanted to go with them, to be with him and fight by his side like she always did, but he refused. She needed to rest and to heal. She would be safe here behind these walls. And so would Carl and Judith. He wouldn't have to worry about them. They would be his motivation to make it back home to them.

But he had his doubts. What if this was the wrong idea? What if he lost more people than he imagined? What if he lost himself?

What would happen if he didn't make it back home to them?

He had told her that she could lose him and he could lose her. But after seeing her beat up and broken after the fight with Jadis' people, he knew that he was wrong. He couldn't lose her. Not when he finally had her.

Rick glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Time had ticked right on by, each minute pressing closer towards the time he was supposed to leave the warmth of his home. The warmth of his love beside him.

Needing to touch her in some way, he inched even closer to her and pressed his lips against her forehead, careful not to wake her. She moved upon his touch and slowly opening her eyes, a small and tired smile lifting the corner of her mouth.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," he replied back. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I was on the verge of waking up anyway. I can practically feel your mind racing with worries."

He chuckled and shook his head, not surprised by the fact that she could read him like a book and knew his every emotion.

"I'm sorry that I kept you up," he said, laying back against his pillow, still facing her. "You should rest."

"I could say the same about you." She was fully awake now, her warm brown eyes focusing on his worried baby blues.

"I just want everything to go right," he confessed, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm wondering if we're making the right decision going to war, putting our people in danger. Maybe losing one another." He paused and glanced over at her, seeing the same flicker of worry flash across her own face.

Michonne nodded in understandment. Rick had been through a lot. Seen a lot. And yet, here he was, still fighting for their people. She couldn't think of anyone else more inclined for the position than him.

She paused before repeating the words that had been racing through her mind all night.

"Do you remember what you told me on the way back from getting those guns for Jadis?" she asked, her voice low and determined. "You said that we were going to fight them, that we're going to lose people and it would be worth it because we're making a future."

Michonne slowly shifted her body, wincing in pain as she pulled up her arm and placed her hand on his cheek. His eyes closed at the contact, settled and content from her touch. It calmed him like it always did; he felt free from all of the disaster and worries of the world.

"It's not about us anymore; it's about a future," she said firmly. "And we have to do what it takes to win. To gain everything back. We owe it to them- to Abraham. To Glenn. To Sasha." She paused at the mention of their fallen friends and took a deep breath before continuing on. "Glenn and Maggie's baby, Judith, Carl, the next generation- we're doing this for them. They don't deserve our surrender."

Rick opened his eyes, her words ringing in his ears. She was right. Just like she always was. They would go out there to fight and win. They were doing this for their family.

"I don't know what I would do without you,' he said, pulling her hand away from her face and to his lips where he placed a kiss on her knuckles. Determination raced through his veins, her words of encouragement and support bringing him back to reality.

She was his remedy, his calm within the storm. His shelter from the rain. She was his everything.

"You're a good man with a good heart," she said. "Don't let him tell you otherwise."

When the world seems so cruel

And your heart makes you feel like a fool

I promise that you will see that I will be your remedy

He kissed her, first softly. She invited him in, pressing her body against his and her fingers made their way through his curls. He was careful not to hurt her, but his need for her love was too much to bear. He finally pulled away to keep from going further, resting his forehead against hers.

"Let me go with you," she said one last time, her eyebrows pushed together.

He shook his head. "No, Michonne, I'm sorry. It's better if you stay here and heal. We can handle it out there, don't you worry about that."

"Promise me," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. "Promise me you'll come back home to me."

Rick nodded, rubbing her back. "I will. Promise me you'll still be here when I get back."

"I will. I'm pretty sure Carl won't allow me out of the house anyway."

They chuckled. Their hearts were beating faster than usual, the realization that he was leaving for war soon finally hitting them like a ton of bricks.

The sun was starting to rise outside of their window, a hint of light peeking through the curtains. He was due to leave soon and meet up with both the Hilltop and the Kingdom. He still had to go around and make sure everything and everyone was accounted for. But first, he wanted to wallow in the comfort of the woman he loved.

Judging by the way she continually ran her fingers through his curls, he could tell she felt the same.

"This won't be the last time," he assured her as his hands roamed to her ass. "I'm coming back to you and when I do, I'm never leaving again."

She buried her face into the crook of his neck. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Lyrics used: "Remedy"- Adele


	2. Chapter 2

**We're The Ones Who Write would like to present Chapter 2 of our Comfort Sex prompt challenge. The multi-talented Fik Freak is bringing the heat in this chapter. If you know anything about this intriguing writer; you know she brings the smut and some deeply emotional story lines in her thought provoking narratives. So don't hesitate, please** **check out Fik Freak's other stories on her fan fiction page.**

 **Stay tuned for Chapter 3!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **We're The Ones Who Write**

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Chapter 2

I love him. The thought of Rick leaving me behind while he goes off to war, to win the good fight, scares me to death. Frightens me so deeply that I can feel my weakened muscles and bruised skin readily animating themselves to repair, replenish, and ride out to meet the fight with him. By his side. Always by his side.

But even as our naked bodies lie together in clutched repose, everything hurts, and the tiny surprise I'm protecting in my womb, along with the abundant need to keep my children safe, overrides my nearly panicked need to ensure that he comes back. So I will stay. Be watchful, mindful. Diligent and fierce to keep intact all that Rick leaves his family behind to fight for.

Even though I'm fully aware of the reasons why we are where we are, how we got to such a dangerous juncture, my heart is brittle and tattered, conflicted against the ferocity of my brain, my will, my spirit. To help. To do something, even if it's just to simply be there. As such, his calm, worshipful touch is not enough just yet to soothe my agitation. Blanketed by the revitalizing vigor of the sun's rays drifting through the window, casting him in a golden hue, my soul urges me to connect with my husband. Fully. To allow him to be the cure for what ails me.

With our foreheads touching in a reverent press, I inch my tongue out to trace the outer rise of his delicious pink lips. It catches Rick off guard, such an amorous move at a time like this, and he jumps a bit, startled by the familiar taste of my tongue on him. He smiles. Oh god his smile. It upends any resistance I've ever had to him, and instead of the slow, steady seduction of his mouth I had planned, I latch my lips over his, prepared to devour the drug like sedation of his kiss. And I do. I sip from the sweet cavern of his mouth, I suckle in our shared breaths, gaining sustenance from the love that sustains our souls.

Dragging his bottom lip between my teeth, I pull back from him, and release his lip with a pop.

"Don't tease."

"I would never." I promise on a firm shake of my head. Feeling the achy burn of my muscles, and the stinging bruise of my battered skin, I submerge these painful sensations underneath my desire to be with my husband. The pain would seek to dull my response to him, but it's impossible. Truly. The feel of him warm and hard against my belly drives me in a way that is carnal and unexplainable. "I need to feel you, Rick. Before you go." I utter as I take his hand and place it over my womanhood, even as a tiny wicked smile pulls my lips upwards in recognition of the desire clouding his blues, warring with his need to be delicate with my recuperating body. But also with the need for this man to be with his woman.

Pushing at his shoulders, I roll Rick over to his back, then slowly, gingerly mount his pelvis, my thighs on the outside of his. A mixture of tanned and pale skin stretches over his lean body, scarred by time and circumstance, by his desire to always do the right thing. In my own quiet way, I pay homage to the warrior, to my husband, as I carefully lean over to kiss a trail over his pecs, and the dusting of light hair found there. Over his heart, I linger my lips and whisper quiet words of devotion into his feverish skin. "I love you, Rick. Always have, always will."

"Me too, Michonne. Always have, always will." Rick returns, his voice deep, graveled, muttered over his lips as his fingers play along my nape, tickling the skin there. I inch lower, over the taut skin of his abdomen, then slowly to the right where the evidence of that bitch Jadis's treachery lies. Though he swears the bullet wound is minor, superficial, and not painful at all, the sight of his skin marred with such a fresh wound, angers me with white hot rage. I close my eyes to the memory of her turning on him, her gun leveled at his handsome face, twisted in confusion at the turn of events. Then the gunshot that nearly stole my breath, and ripped through the flesh of my beloved.

Rick astutely senses the conflict inside of me, I can tell in the firmer massage of his fingers on my neck. He knows me, and can probably tell from the careful way my fingers trace the outlines of the bandages protecting the swollen, red skin on his hip, to the soft wet kisses of my lips, and the angry angle of my brows, diving between my eyes.

"It doesn't hurt anymore. I'm fine, baby."

"You're not. None of us are. But we will be." I vow, my intent clear and true. With my hand guiding itself lower, I take a firm grasp of the thick column of his manhood. Warm, veiny, my fingers form a circle at the base, while I conduct a rhythmic massage upwards with my palm.

"Shit…" Rick hisses between his clinched teeth as he hungrily stares down at me, holding eye contact as I continue with the rolling twist of my wrist, then the tight pull up. A staccato series of moans escape his parted lips, and with a pearlescent drop of pre-cum glistening on his reddened tip, I know he's ready for me.

Confirming my assumption, Rick removes his hand from the nape of my neck, and places them on my arms. "Come here." Carefully lifting my body to once again rest over his pelvis, Rick holds me gently at the waist, then with cautious patience and ease, lowers me on to his stiff length. Tossing my head back in ecstasy, the deliberate way his cock prods and parts through my folds, and opens me up to his tunneling exploration, almost completely takes my breath away. Gliding down to accept every turgid inch of him, my walls swell and constrict to make room for him. Filled to the brim, I take a moment to delight in the pleasurable feeling of completion.

"Mmm, Michonne… Baby, you are so fucking tight. Just, give me a minute." Rick begs, his eyes closed as he drags out a long breath, and rolls his large hands to cup each of them over the sensitive peaks of my breasts, his thumbs thrumming over my stiff nipples, which are more sensitive than usual. A telling sign for me, but briefly the questions cross my mind. Does he know? Can he tell? Has he yet to take notice of the tiny bulge of my stomach? Breaking through my thoughts, my gaze centered on his handsome face, twisting in tight pleasure, Rick's moans and equally focused stare betray nothing.

Roaming my hands lightly over his chest, I anchor myself as my hips go to work on him, a smooth stroke that has him choking out further pleas for mercy. "Chonne, baby, just like that, but easy, easy. Be careful with yourself. Take your time."

I don't listen though. I can't really pace myself enough. He feels too good. This feels too good. My pussy is greedy, hungry to feel the satisfying slide of his veiny cock against my walls, and with endorphins and adrenaline numbing the pain of my injuries, it's a near impossible task. While I can't deter the punishing delight of our coupling, I am conscientious to not hurt him or myself. With that, and a tad more mindful of both of our wounds, I wind my hips, slowly, painstakingly slow, then add a delicate bounce. Just a little. Rick is so long, so thick, already balancing his tip against the secreted bundle of nerves deep inside that only he has ever touched, anything more might end this party too soon.

Rick's fingers are clutching and grasping at the flesh of my hips, guiding me back and forth on his lap, as he uses his muscular thighs to launch himself up to meet my every drop. Every cautious bump, careful thrust, and crashing meeting of our bodies, eased by the slickness of my dripping essence, is even more gratifying than the last, and soon we are both covered in a sweaty sheen of appreciation.

And then there it is…the familiar creep…the most delicious of things. Crawling, inching up my spine is the tingling zing of my orgasm, so sweet and satisfying that it nearly topples me on top of him as it hits me full on. But Rick doesn't let me fall. Instead he takes a hold of my body in his arms, his right hand once again riding the sensitive skin of my neck, his thumb caressing my throat. His left arm is wrapped securely around my waist, controlling my pleasure, guiding me through the jerking spasms of my climax.

"Shhh…shh…baby, that's good, right? Come here." He soothes, lowering my torso to his on a thin, fleeting wince. Holding me close to him, Rick drops kisses along my chin, my cheek, then to my lips as he continues to tunnel up in a slow succession of thrusts, rolling his hips in a wave that crushes his pelvis against my clit. The rush of his kisses and continued pressure and push, threaten to send me over the edge again, this time joining my husband as he releases a low satisfied growl. "Fuuuuccckkk…"


	3. Chapter 3

**We're The Ones Who Write would like to submit The Final Chapter of our Comfort Sex Prompt Challenge. Closing us off is the incredibly gifted Thematsaidwelcome. We call her the Smuff Queen ; she's out here doing the most by gifting us with what we love, Richonne fluff and smut! Catch up on her other gripping stories on her fanfiction page.**

 **Thank you for your continued support. Stay tuned, there's more coming!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **We're The Ones Who Write**

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I told her she needed to rest, to heal, she told me the same thing. Maybe, I did, but right now was not the time, we were going to war. What I needed was to touch her, and hear her, smell her and taste her, see her, find comfort in her before I leave. Allow her to fill my senses, overload my brain and saturate my mind with all the pieces of her that calm me. I can't lose her, no matter what I said before. We're trying to build a future, reorder things for Carl and Judith and Alexandria. She needed to feel me and I needed to feel her too.

Her warm softness an extreme contrast to the cold hard steel that I'll be picking up later to fight. Her slender neck against my hand, the thump of her pulse on my thumb and her heartbeat when I move my hand down to her chest. It sings a song of life and love. When I placed my hands on her hips and waist, I felt her tremble at my touch, I also can feel something else just underneath her belly, something she hasn't told me about, it's another tangible reason to go out there and fuck up the world so that it can be put back together and we can start living, not just surviving. We go slow, steady and cautious in our movements. We're both still healing, but I'm starting to find my strength deep within her walls, giving me more motivation and healing my wounds, soothing my soul.

I wanted to hear her moan my name, scream in ecstasy and cry out in satisfaction. I needed her voice to course through my ears and fill my eardrums with the sexy melody that is only Michonne, my wife. "Does it feel good?" I asked her. She hummed her answer low and powerful from deep within her diaphragm like a symphony and it was beautiful, hypnotic. Easily one of my favorite things in this world, no matter how fucked up it is. I store it away for later when I'll need it to dull the groans and terror yells of war as they assault my hearing until I'm almost deaf. The outside world too loud in its suffering and too quiet in its treachery. "Say it Michonne. Tell me." Michonne's voice is all honey and melodic, like an anthem that will lead me back home when she tells me how good I feel. I thrust a little harder, to get deeper to push that button that will have her voice in my ear saying my name, whispering her delight and pleasure.

I want to breath in her scent for just a bit longer, smell her and fill my nostrils with the sweet fragrance of her, her skin, her hair. I needed to inhale the smell of us, that mix of her and me that we create when we make love. When we come together, our cum together, it's intoxicating and heady and is oozing out and dripping onto my dick and balls right now. It'll make it's way to the sheets soon and hopefully the lasting smell of us will keep my wife in bed so she can finish healing. I inhale again hoping it stays in my nose to remind me of us, of her. It's comforting, like warm blankets on a cold day or ice water to a thirsty man. This is what I need before the sour scent of gunpowder and the repugnant aroma of rotting flesh and death tinge my nose with its sickening stench.

The taste of her is what I need, on my tongue, in my mouth, down my throat. The taste of her skin as she starts to sweat when we make love, it's tangy and addicting and tastes good as it starts to bead and trickle down her forehead and nose stopping on her lips as I sweep my tongue across them. A welcome savory flavor to my taste buds, sweet and salty and every bit undeniably her, nothing can compare to it. I want it to stay in my mouth so I'm committing it to memory, tucking it away to use for later. Later when the wages of war are all around me and the taste of death takes over.

I needed to see her face as she crumbled around me. Watch her eyes slowly close as she's hit with wave after wave of bliss. I needed that. That beautiful face that I wake up to, the face that I picture during the darkest times. I need to see her, all of her. She's staying behind, I won't see her beyond the gate. I'll only see the gruesome cruel world of nightmares that we somehow live in. "Look at me Michonne." Right now I'm going to stare into her eyes and get lost in their amber color that although shows worry, also holds hope for the resurrection of a wonderful new world where we can laugh out loud and our children can play and grow. I have to tell her again, hope that my words are comforting and unquestionable. That they quell that urge within her to join in the fight, I need her to stay and heal. "We're gonna win this and I'm coming back to you. All of you. I promise."


End file.
